


Probability and Uncertainty

by jonius_belonius (Joni_Beloni)



Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: Drama, First Meetings, Fix-It of Sorts, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2019-02-15 09:27:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13028115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joni_Beloni/pseuds/jonius_belonius
Summary: Before the associate interviews, Harvey meets Mike in Atlantic City, playing blackjack to earn money for his grandmother’s care.





	Probability and Uncertainty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [machtaholic (cinderella81)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinderella81/gifts).



> Machtaholic asked for "any kind of different meeting AU," and "hurt/comfort." I hope this fits the bill!

Harvey Specter was in the mood to celebrate, and Atlantic City would be the perfect place for it. He’d just made senior partner, and he’d followed that milestone up with closing the whale of whales, who he had chased here to New Jersey.

Now, it was Friday evening, work was over, and he didn’t have to be back in Manhattan until Monday morning. He’d made plans to keep him occupied through Sunday.  A reserved seat at a high stakes poker table waited for him, the small overnight bag he’d packed had been sent up to his suite on the 40th floor, and he’d booked a massage for tomorrow evening, followed by an extravagantly expensive meal at the hotel's finest restaurant.

He followed the hostess through the main floor of the casino, past rows of slot machines, roulette wheels, and tables of craps, Spanish 21, blackjack, baccarat, pai gow, and various other types of poker. 

Light and color flashed and flared all around him, and hundreds of slot machines chimed and trilled and electronically simulated the sound of endless coins cascading from them.  Occasional voices cried out excitedly.  Most of the gamblers, however, squatted in front of the machines, slack-jawed and dull-eyed, pressing the same button over and over again, like trained pigeons signaling for birdseed that rarely appeared.

They passed through a doorway into the private poker rooms, where the hostess conferred briefly with her counterpart in the room.   Finally, she turned to address Harvey.  “I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Specter.  It looks like it will be nearly an hour before a seat opens up.”  She grimaced.  “Friday nights.  So busy.  Is there anything we can do to make you comfortable in the meantime?  There’s a private lounge where you can wait, with menus to all of our restaurants, and a fully-stocked bar.”

Tempting as it was to relax with a good drink, Harvey was more than ready to gamble.  The sights and sounds of the casino were likely manufactured to prod some primitive part of the brain into convincing him that joining a game would make him happier, or richer.  Did the medulla oblongata contain a greed center, or a recklessness center, which could be accessed with the right stimuli?

Harvey had no clue.  All he knew was that he didn’t want to wait another hour.  “I think I’ll amuse myself out there,” he said, indicating the sprawling casino floor. “If I’m not back in an hour, you can give my seat to someone else.”

Ignoring the hostess’ delicate apologies, he turned and strolled away, searching for a table that looked promising.  Most of them were filled, but he spotted a frowning couple pushing back their chairs at one of the blackjack tables, and he headed in that direction.

The first thing he noticed when he sat down was the impressive pile of chips in front of the player directly to his right.  Curious, he turned his head to examine him.  The man was young – perhaps ten years younger than Harvey – dressed in jeans, t-shirt, hoodie, and sneakers.  He was slumped in his chair, tipping back a bottle of beer, as the dealer took Harvey’s money and counted out a thousand dollars in chips.  When the other player caught Harvey staring at him, he raised an eyebrow and gave a terse nod.

"Looks like you're having a good night," said Harvey.

A negligent shrug.  "Sometimes I get lucky."

"Well, here's to hoping some of your luck rubs off on me."  He lifted his drink, and waited several seconds for the other player to lift his beer bottle and clink it to his glass.  Momentarily caught by a pair of soft, pretty blue eyes, he allowed his gaze to linger too long.  Dragging his gaze away, he nodded a greeting to the other three players, a group of young men who seemed to be together, and who barely acknowledged him.  "I'm Harvey," he said, addressing Blue Eyes.

A short pause, and then, "Mike," came the grudging reply.

"Nice to meet you."  Harvey arranged his newly bought chips into neat stacks, placed a fifty-dollar bet, and waited for the cards to be dealt.

He received a four and a ten.  Mike, he saw, had a five and a queen.  In his place, Harvey might have held, with the dealer showing a two as his up-card, but Mike tapped the table, indicating that he wanted another card.  He was dealt a six, giving him twenty-one.  Harvey stayed with his fourteen, the remaining players surrendered, and the dealer added a six and a ten to his two, giving him eighteen.   

The kid had an incredible lucky streak going.  Harvey commented as much. 

One of the other players, separated from Harvey by an empty chair, snorted.  “Guy can’t lose.  What’s your secret, man?  Telepathy?  X-ray glasses?”

“I’m not wearing glasses,” said Mike, soft and clipped.

“Yeah?  Well, you got some kind of freaky mojo going on.  I can’t compete with that.  Come on, guys.”  He nodded at the other two men at the table.  “Let’s go find a better game.  This one sucks ass.”

The three men gathered their chips and left.

Play proceeded.  More players arrived to fill the empty chairs.  Harvey sipped at a glass of scotch and divided his attention between the cards, and Mike.  He was a nice-looking kid – well, not a kid so much.  To be in here, he needed to be at least twenty-one.  He had a bit of scruff on cheeks and chin, and dark circles under his eyes, but his cute nose and subtly prominent front teeth gave him a youthful appearance. 

After splitting two jacks, and winning on both, Mike scraped in another sizable pile of chips.  His eyes cut over to Harvey, and the look in them was distinctly unfriendly.   Well, he had been blatantly staring.  Harvey quirked up one corner of his mouth, attempting to signal his non-threatening intentions.  Mike appeared to relax, but his mouth remained tight and unsmiling.  Which was odd, considering how much he'd been winning.

Harvey tried to focus his attention back on the cards, and his own shrinking pile of chips.  Maybe Mike had a gambling problem, and was desperate to recoup a previous loss.  He played the game as if it was life and death.   The recently departed player had been correct: he couldn’t seem to lose.  On hands that conventional wisdom said you should stay pat, he took another card.  On hands which might have been worth taking that chance, he stayed pat, and watched the dealer go bust.

Harvey played it safe, and won a few hands, but lost even more.  He tried to engage Mike in conversation, but he remained intently focused on the game, and his cards.  When Harvey found himself wondering for the fifth time how it would feel to get Mike alone, and have that intensity focused directly on him, he decided it was time to leave the game.  A glance at his watch told him that nearly an hour had passed.  Perhaps his seat had opened up in the poker game.

Just as he had made up his mind, a new dealer arrived to take over.  It made for a handy excuse to gather up his few remaining chips and leave.  “Good luck,” he said to Mike, and then chuckled.  “Not that you’ll need it.  It seems you’ve got that covered tonight.”

Some undecipherable emotion flared in Mike’s eyes as he watched Harvey push back his chair and stand up.  “See you around,” he muttered, and became deeply interested in counting and restacking his chips.

With an internal, fatalistic shrug, Harvey turned away, and went in search of more entertaining ways to lose his money.

 

******

 

The poker game lasted all night.   Perhaps some of Mike’s luck did rub off on Harvey.  He doubled, and then tripled his money.   The five other men and two women at the table proved to be good company – serious and focused when the game required it, but also willing to engage in conversation and share amusing stories about their lives.  When they found out that Harvey was an attorney, two of the men and one of the women asked for his business card.  He hadn’t intended this as a networking opportunity, but you found your clients where you found them. 

One by one, the other players retired for the night, and new ones rotated in.  Finally, after losing a full quarter of his pot by betting too impulsively on one hand, Harvey decided to call it a night – or rather morning.  It was nearly 7 a.m.

As he strolled back across the casino floor, he wondered how many of the slot players were the same ones he’d seen on his way in.  More than a few looked as if they’d been there all night. 

He had almost forgotten about Mike, but his head still swiveled in that direction when he passed the table games.  Mike was gone by then, which he should have expected.  He ignored the quick stab of disappointment.

He might have gone straight up to his suite and collapsed on the bed, but decided he needed to clear his head first.  As he stepped through the glass doors onto the sidewalk near the entrance drive, he wished he had a cigarette.  Never mind that he hadn’t smoked since college.  In lieu of that, he contented himself with walking slowly down the sidewalk, and standing with his hands in his pockets, watching the arrivals and departures.  Taxis, and cars that were probably Ubers, pulled up and let people out, some with luggage, and some without. 

His eyelids grew heavy, and the exhaustion caused by being awake for twenty-four hours had him yawning and sagging against the exterior wall.  He was getting too old for this.  Time for some shuteye.

He'd turned toward the doorway, intending to go back inside, when both glass doors burst open.  An older couple who had been about to enter jumped back out of the way.  Two large men in casino uniforms emerged, each holding one arm of the man between them.  With a shock of surprise, Harvey saw that it was Mike.  His nose was bleeding, and he had the beginnings of a black eye.

“One warning is all you get,” hissed one of his escorts.  “Show your face in here again, and we won’t go so easy on you.”

Mike put up a brief struggle, and managed to free one arm.  “Whatever.  My grandmother hits harder than you.”

“Cocky little shit.  Get off the property, or we call the cops.” 

The man still holding him let go, and shoved him into the driveway – directly in the path of an approaching SUV.  Harvey lunged forward, even though he knew he’d never reach him in time.  Luckily, the SUV’s driver had excellent reflexes.  He slammed on his brakes, and skidded to a stop scant inches from where Mike lay sprawled on the pavement.

Everyone in the vicinity seemed to freeze for a second or two.  Then commotion erupted, with the SUV driver jumping out to check on Mike, the older couple loudly scolding the two bouncers, and a few other bystanders running over to see if Mike was okay.  Harvey reached him first.  He'd managed to sit up, and was holding his ribs and groaning.

"Whoa," said Harvey, "hold still."  He passed Mike his handkerchief.  "No, don't tip your head back.  Best thing for a nosebleed is to pinch your nostrils together and bend forward."

Mike did as he'd instructed, shooting Harvey a curious side eye.  "You a doctor?"  With his nostrils blocked, it came out sounding as if he had a bad cold.

"No, I just have plenty of experience in the boxing ring getting punched in the nose."

A man in a hotel uniform – not one of the bouncers – approached and spoke to Harvey.  "I need you to get you friend out of the road.  He's blocking traffic."

"He's also hurt and bleeding, thanks to those two apes over there."  He gestured at the bouncers, who stood in front of the doorway as if guarding it from Mike, and smirking over at him.

"Hey," said the one who'd shoved Mike, "that's defamatory.  He probably walked into a door."

Mike struggled to rise, so Harvey put a hand under one arm and helped him to his feet.  "Do you need a doctor?" he asked.

"No way.  Like I said, these guys hit like a couple of old women.  Not like at the Tropicana, where they're also considerate enough to show you out through the back door after they kick the shit out of you."

"You need some ice for that eye."  Harvey wanted to offer to take him upstairs to his suite, but the two apes weren't about to let Mike back inside.  He helped him back onto the sidewalk, waving off the SUV driver and the older couple, who offered to testify against the casino if Mike decided to press charges.

Finally, traffic resumed, the bouncers went back inside, the gawkers grew bored and moved on, and Harvey was left standing with a battered – but no longer bleeding – Mike, who balled up the bloody handkerchief and gave Harvey an apologetic grimace.

"Sorry," he said.  "You probably don't want this back."

"Keep it.  I've got plenty more."

"Are they all monogrammed?"

"Of course."  This was where he should wish Mike well, say goodbye, and go back inside to get some sleep.  Instead, he heard himself ask, "Where are you staying?"

Mike frowned.  "I'm not.  I'm broke.  Those assholes confiscated all my winnings.  All I have in my wallet is two dollars, which won’t even cover the bus ride home."

"Where's home?"

"Brooklyn."

"Why did you get thrown out of that place … and the Tropicana?"

"Damn.  You ask a lot of questions."

Harvey laughed.  "Habit.  I interrogate people for a living."

Now Mike appeared alarmed.  "You're a cop?"

"No.  Lawyer."  He knew how Mike would likely respond to his next question, but asked it anyway.  "If you want to sue the casino, I'm available."

Mike shook his head, and started walking away.  Harvey followed him.

"I don't need an attorney.  They had every right to kick me out.  The minor assault was … extra.  I might have said a few insulting things about their mothers.  And their sisters.  And their predilection for certain farm animals."

"Jesus.  Do you have a death wish?"

Mike turned his head and gave him a half-smile.  "No."  He stopped abruptly.  "Why, exactly, are you following me?"

_Why, indeed?_

Harvey shrugged.  "Just wanted to make sure you're okay."

"I'm okay."

"But you have no money, nowhere to stay, and no way to get home."

"I have two dollars.  There's a smaller casino a couple of blocks up this way that hasn't banned me yet."  He started walking again.

"Wait," said Harvey.  When Mike didn't stop, he grabbed his arm.

Mike did stop then, but glared at Harvey, down at his hand, and back to his face again.  "Dude," he said in such an offended tone, that Harvey nearly laughed.

"You never told me why the casino asked you to leave.  I think I can guess."

Mike pressed his lips together and waited.

"Card counting?"

"Oh, snap," Mike deadpanned, "you got me."  He rubbed a hand over his face, wincing as he nudged his bruised cheek.  "I can't help it.  My brain just … never mind.  If your curiosity is fully satisfied, I've got things to do."  He looked pointedly at Harvey's hand, which still gripped his arm.

Harvey should have let him go.  He should have shrugged the incident off as one of those weird interludes that sometimes occur in places like Atlantic City.  Something about Mike, though, had gotten under his skin.  His protective instinct – which had caused him trouble often enough in the past – urged him to help Mike out.  Added to that, he felt a powerful attraction to him, and it seemed like a shame to let him walk (or limp) out of his life forever.

Unable to fend off both equally strong impulses, he quickly came up with a plan.  "Look," he said, "if you keep doing what you're doing, you're going to wind up with bigger problems than a black eye and a bloody nose."

"Dude …"

"Not 'Dude,' Harvey."

"Whatever.  What is it that you want from me?"

"You're broke.  You have no place to stay, and no way to get home.  Plus, I can tell you're in pain.  I'm offering you an alternative to the poor choices you're about to make."

"There is only one choice.  Well, except for …"  His eyes narrowed in sudden suspicion.  "You aren't suggesting … Is that why you want to help me?  You really think I would … Well, fuck you if you do.  I'm not a hooker.  I haven't fallen that far."

_Yet._

The unspoken word seemed to vibrate in the air between them. 

"That's not what this is about," said Harvey.  Another time, another place, that might have been precisely what it was about, but today, right now, he truly did only want to help Mike out.  Well, mostly.  If he got to know him better in the process, that would be a bonus.  "When's the last time you ate?"

Mike's brow wrinkled.  "Yesterday?  I think.  What day is this?"

Harvey rolled his eyes.  "It's Saturday morning.  And if you can't remember the last time you ate, that is the first thing on the agenda.  I know I'm hungry, and I had a big dinner last night.  Let's get you fed.  Let's get us both fed, and we can talk about your options."

Mike hesitated, visibly torn between getting a good meal, and walking away.  Evidently, hunger won out.  "Fine.  You're going to have to pay, for obvious reasons.  If you think that means I'm going to put out …"

"Breakfast.  No strings.  Come on, there's a semi-decent diner just up the block.

 

******

 

Halfway through their waffles and eggs, Harvey decided to drop some lawyer knowledge on Mike.  “Did you know,” he asked, poking his fork in Mike’s direction, “that in Atlantic City, unlike Vegas, the casinos aren’t allowed to ban you for card counting?”

Mike froze, cheeks full of food, and then swallowed noisily.  He’d cleaned the blood from his face, but his bruise was deepening into a dark purple, with hits of mauve and green.  “Of course I know.  Try telling that to them, though.”

“If you ask me to, I will.”

“Huh.”  He signaled the waitress for more coffee, waiting until she'd left again before asking, “And why would you do that?  Eager for my two-dollar retainer?”

“Cards on the table?”

“Oh, clever.  A gambling allusion in Atlantic City.  How long have you been waiting to use that?”

Harvey smiled.  Mike probably didn’t realize that his sassy attitude was a total turn-on.  Or maybe he _did_ realize.  “Don’t deflect.”

“Okay.  Cards on the table.  Let me have it.”

“My reasons for wanting to help are two-fold.  First, I’m a righter of wrongs.”

“Okay,” said Mike, voice threaded with humor.  “Settle down, caped crusader.  I’m the one in the wrong, remember?”

“Not technically.”

After stirring several tablespoons of sugar into his refilled coffee mug, Mike took a sip, and licked his lips.  “Well?  What’s the second reason?”

“I would very much like to get in your pants.”

Mike snorted inelegantly, and Harvey half-expected to see coffee spray from his nose.  Thankfully, he was spared that sight.

“Damn,” laughed Mike, “those are quite the cards.”  His humor receded a little.  “As far as reason number two goes, it’s not a hard no from me.”

“Encouraging.”

“But I’m too wiped out now.”

“Same.”

“So … maybe call me sometime?”

“I have a better idea.  Come back to my hotel room –”

“Harvey …”

“And sleep.  Take a shower.  Put some ice on that eye.  I promise that all I intend to do for the next eight hours – possibly more – is sleep.”

“In your cozy hotel room bed, with me next to you?”

“It’s a suite, actually, and I believe there are at least two beds.  Probably two bedrooms.”

“You don’t know?”

“It was the only thing they had available when I checked in last night.”  He directed what he knew was a devastating smile at Mike.  “Looks like Fate knew what was up.”

Mike wiped his lips, and threw his napkin down on his empty plate.  “If that ends up being a line ...”

“It’s not.  Harvey Specter doesn’t need ‘lines’.”

Mike appeared to mull over the offer.  “Okay.  I accept, on one condition: you never refer to yourself in the third person again.”

“Too much?”

“Oh, yeah.  Pompous as shit.”

Harvey signaled the waitress for the check.

“I do have one question,” said Mike.  “How are you going to get me in the front door?”

“I’m not.  There’s a door off the alley that opens up right at the elevators.”

“Uh, hello?  Cameras?  Facial recognition software?”

“Keep your hood up.  Or we could always kiss-stumble our way past the cameras.”

“That’s not even a thing.  You just made that up.  Didn’t you?”

After throwing several bills down onto the table, Harvey stood.  “Come on.  Enough talk.  I’m dead on my feet.”

 

******

 

Harvey’s suite, it turned out, had three bedrooms, two bathrooms – one with whirlpool bath – a full kitchen, impressive bar, and a sweeping view of the city, which did not look terribly appealing in the unforgiving light of morning, even from this height. 

Harvey grabbed his overnight case from where it had been left near the front door, and headed for the closest bedroom.  “Pick a room,” he said over a yawn.  “Shower, make yourself at home.  I’ll see you in about eight hours.”

He went into the bedroom, hung up his suit coat, pried off his shoes, and yanked his tie loose.  Pulling a t-shirt and pajama pants from his bag, he finished undressing and put them on.  He might have showered, but was too tired.  Still, the sight of the plastic laundry bag hanging in the closet made him think of something.  Mike didn’t have a change of clothes, and from what he’d told Harvey, it sounded as if he’d been up for longer than him.  He was probably marinating in his clothes by now.

He picked up the bag and went to find Mike, who had taken the room next to Harvey’s.  Not finding him in the bedroom, he poked his head into the nearest bathroom, and froze, sucking in a quick gulp of air.  Mike had his shirt off, and his pants undone, hanging low on his narrow hips.  He was examining himself in the mirror, gently prodding bruises covering large swathes of his torso, most of them new, but some obviously a day or more old.

He met Harvey’s gaze in the mirror, and crossed his arms defensively across his chest. 

“I –”  Harvey swallowed and tried again.  “If you want to, throw your clothes in this laundry bag and I’ll call down to have it picked up.  I guarantee they’ll have them cleaned and back up here before you wake up.”  He waited, but Mike didn’t move.  “I’m going to go grab you some ice.  There should be a robe on the back of the door.  You can put that on.”

He turned without waiting for a reply, and went to the kitchen.  The freezer compartment of the refrigerator was well-stocked with ice.  He piled some into a Ziploc bag, set that in the center of a dish towel, folded up the corners and tied them together.  He located a bottle of pain reliever in one of the cupboards, grabbed a water bottle from out of the refrigerator, and then returned to the bathroom carrying everything he’d collected. 

Now dressed in a fluffy white robe, Mike handed him the bag filled with his clothes.  Harvey tossed it behind himself, into the living room, to deal with after he’d finished with Mike.

“Follow me,” he ordered, and led the way into the bedroom.  When he heard Mike enter behind him, he pointed at the bed.  “Lie down.” 

Mike hesitated, but lay down on his back in the center of the bed, eyes wide, and closely following every move that Harvey made.  Harvey dragged a chair closer to sit on.  He handed the water to Mike, opened the bottle of pain reliever, and shook two tablets into his palm.  “Swallow these.”

Mike’s fingertips brushed his palm as he picked up the pills, and Harvey had to force himself not to shiver at their first skin-on-skin contact.  Eyes locked with Harvey’s, Mike popped the pills in his mouth and took a long swallow of water.

“Good.  Now open up your robe.”  Seeing Mike hesitate again, he hastened to reassure him.  “Just the top half.”  He hefted the cloth full of ice.  “This is for your ribs.  Hold it in place until you fall asleep.  When you wake, spend at least half an hour in the whirlpool, hot as you can stand it.”

“What about my eye?”

Harvey grunted, half-amused.  “Let me see you put that on your ribs, and I’ll go get you another one.”

Mike did as he’d been asked, and Harvey returned to the kitchen.  When he got back to the bedroom with a second, smaller bundle of ice, he found that Mike had removed the robe, and pulled the bed covers up to his hips.  Mike held out a hand, but Harvey shook his head.

“No.  Let me.”  He had to scoot the chair closer, and lean over the bed.  Gently, he set the wrapped ice against Mike’s swelling cheekbone, and held it there.  Mike flinched at the initial contact, and Harvey gave him a sympathetic wince in return.  “I know.  It hurt likes a bitch.  This will help, until the pain pills kick in.”

Mike gave him a wan smile.  “You don’t have to stay.  I can take care of myself.”

“Can you?”  Although Harvey returned his smile, he meant the question seriously. 

Mike shrugged, and sank back into the pillows he’d piled behind his back.

They sat in silence for several minutes.  The only sounds in the room were their even breaths, and the muffled _thunk_ of a closing door down the hall somewhere.  Harvey hadn’t meant to pry, not yet, but found himself asking nonetheless, “What do you need the money for?”

Mike was quiet for so long that Harvey didn’t think he was going to answer.  Finally, though, he let out a long, slow breath, and stared past Harvey, at the far wall.  “My grandmother’s in a nursing home.  She has Alzheimer’s, and she’s declining at a faster rate than the doctor’s predicted.  For the level of care she requires, they need more money.”

“How much?”

“Too much.”  Mike’s shoulders sagged.  “Twenty-five thousand.”

Harvey might have been tempted to ask him if that was true, or just a fabricated story meant to tug at the heartstrings.  Mike seemed sincere.  Sincere, and sad, and desperate enough to keep throwing himself into dangerous situations.  Harvey’s protective instinct reared its inconvenient head again and he heard himself murmuring, “Don’t worry.  We’ll figure something out.”

Mike lifted a hand and laid it over Harvey’s, where he held the ice to Mike’s eye.  Taking possession of the ice, he pried it away from Harvey and held it against his sternum.  “What ‘we’?”  He gestured between himself and Harvey with the ice pack.  “Strangers, remember?”

And what was there to say to that?  Mike was right.  They’d just met.  For all Harvey knew, Mike would be gone by the time he woke up.  If he was, that would be a damn shame.  He nodded tersely, stood, and left the bedroom.  Before he found his own bed, he made sure to call downstairs about Mike’s clothes, and he left the bag outside the door.  If Mike intended to make a quick getaway, that should slow him down.

 

******

 

Sleep dragged Harvey under almost the moment his head touched the pillow.  It was deep, and dreamless and lasted for well over eight hours.  When he managed to pry his eyes open again, night had fallen, and flashy neon lit up the city in gaudy splendor once more.  Harvey stretched luxuriously in a bed even more comfortable than the one at home.  He let his eyes drift shut again while his brain and memory brought him slowly up to speed.

He was in Atlantic City.  It was Saturday night.  He was staying at the Grand Palace Casino and Hotel, in a suite that was much too big for only him.  His eyes blinked open.  And … _oh, right._   He’d invited a stray to come share his suite.  A slightly battered, slightly pathetic, and wholly mouthwatering stray named Mike.  He let out a silent huff of laughter as he realized he didn’t even know the stray’s last name.

His wallet was on the nightstand, and did not appear to have been disturbed.  Harvey reached over and checked anyway.  His stack of cash remained as thick as when he went to sleep.  Straining his ears for the sound of snores, or running water, he heard nothing.  Perhaps Mike had decided to sneak out before Harvey woke, and go in search of a game which he could buy into for two dollars.  Oh, well, an opportunity lost.  Harvey would have liked to explore the strong attraction he’d felt for Mike, and which he believed had been reciprocated, but whatever. 

He got out of bed, slipped into his complimentary robe, and headed for the living room.   Having overslept, he’d missed his massage appointment by half an hour, but maybe he could call and – He came to an abrupt halt.

A folding massage table had been set up in the living room, and Mike lay face down, apparently naked except for the towel draped across his delectable bottom.  A muscular man with blond hair and a dimple in each cheek was running strong hands up and down Mike’s back, wringing pleased, needy sounds out of him that had Harvey’s dick hardening in his pajama pants.

“Um,” said Harvey, trying to decide on the proper etiquette in this situation.

Mike’s face lifted out of the padded hole, and he blinked languidly at Harvey.  “Oh, hey.  Sorry about – ooh, ah, yeah, right there – that is, Kevin showed up with his table, and his essential oils, and you were still asleep, so …”

“So, you hijacked my massage.”

“Er, sorry?”

Harvey waved off his apology, deciding to find the humor in the situation.  “It’s fine.  You probably need it more than me.”

Kevin spoke up.  “I have time after I’m done with Mike, if you’re still interested.”

“No.  Next time, maybe.  I think, I’ll, uh …”  He pointed in the general direction of the bathroom.  “Shower.”

Mike’s sexy moans started up again before he got the door closed.  As hot water drilled down on his back, and steam rose up around him, he wrapped a hand around himself and imagined Mike making those sounds for him.  He bit his lip as he came hard, splatting against the shower wall.

 

******

 

When Harvey returned to the living room, dressed, and feeling significantly more relaxed, Kevin was folding up his table, and Mike, back in his robe, was lounging on one of the sofas, loose as an overcooked noodle.

"Be sure to stay hydrated," said Kevin.  He caught sight of Harvey, and gave him a short nod.  "I was telling Mike he should take advantage of that whirlpool while you guys are here.  It'll help with some of his lingering aches and pains."

"Good advice."  Harvey shadowed Kevin to the door.  Aware of the state of Mike's finances, he slipped Kevin a twenty-dollar tip and let him out.  To Mike, he said, "Since you're still here, I hope you'll let me take you to dinner."  He half-expected Mike to protest that he needed to get back out there, gambling for his grandmother's health care.

Mike gazed up at him, appearing sleepy, a bit loopy, and as if he didn't want to be anywhere but right where he was.  "Is this still you, trying to get into my pants?"

"You're not wearing any at the moment," Harvey pointed out.

"Ha.  Ha."

"Seriously, I don't want to eat alone."  This was only partly true.  He had no qualms about taking himself out to a nice dinner.  More often than not, he didn't end the dinner alone.  If he had to guess, though, he'd say that Mike subsisted mainly on pizza, ramen, and cheap burgers.  It made no logical sense, but he found himself wanting to feed him good food, and keep a close eye on him, so he could make sure that he didn't pull any further nonsense.  As he eyed Mike in his robe, he remembered something.  "Did they return your clean clothes?"

"Yes.  They're not exactly fancy restaurant wear."  He frowned.  "You're not thinking about eating in one of the places here in the casino, are you?  Don't forget, I'm currently in skulk mode."  Yawning, he stretched out on the sofa.  "Plus, I think Kevin massaged away all of my bones."

"Room service, it is."  Harvey found the menu for the hotel's steakhouse in a drawer, and dropped it in Mike's lap.  "Order whatever you want.  Go nuts."

Mike frowned down at the selections, probably alarmed by the high prices.  He looked impossibly appealing.

"I'm buying," said Harvey, "and whatever it is you want, I can afford it.  Stop worrying."

"I'm not worried, just confused.  I mean, who does this?"

"Does what?"

"Rescues some penniless loser, gives him a comfortable bed, and springs for expensive meals?  Just so we're clear, I'm not your date.  You know that, right?"

"Yeah, I get that.  And … I don't know.  I find you weirdly fascinating.  And cute.  Why would I toss you out to fend for yourself?  Who does _that_?"

"Everyone?"

"I guess I'm not everyone."

Mike's mouth twisted, signaling his continued skepticism.  "You're just doing this so you can sex me up."

"Just to be clear, if I ever get around to trying to 'sex you up,' you won't have to ask.  You'll know."

Mike let out a soft snort of laughter.  "Noted.  Oh, and me?  If I ever decide to put the moves on you, you'll probably be confused, and should definitely ask for clarification."

Harvey thought that over for a few seconds.  "Are you putting the moves on me right now?"

Mike only stared back at him, mouth stretched into a grin, blue eyes sparkling.

Oh.

_Oh._

Harvey's eyes narrowed.  He stalked closer and plucked the menu from Mike's loose grasp.  "Sit up," he ordered.

"Why?"

"Because I'm going to kiss you, and you're too banged up for me to climb on top of you right now."

"That's your opinion."  But he sat up, moved his feet to the floor, and made room for Harvey next to him on the sofa.

Having committed to this course of action, Harvey wasn't about to back down now.  Still, he spent a few uncharacteristically awkward moments staring at Mike's bruised face, and trying to interpret the sudden reticence he saw there.  Brushing one knuckle gently over Mike's unbruised cheekbone, he asked, "Do I have your permission?" and then winced at how absurdly old-fashioned that sounded. 

Mike's brows crinkled for a split second, as if he couldn't quite believe it either.  Then he took hold of Harvey's chin to hold him in place, and pressed his mouth against Harvey's. 

Their first kiss wasn't much more than a taste.  Mike's lips moved gently against his, and his tongue tested the seam of his lips and then retreated.

"You smell really good," Mike whispered, his face inches from Harvey's.

"You smell like essential oils and Kevin," Harvey whispered back, fighting a smile. 

After taking a moment to size up his target, he captured Mike's mouth with his own, and kissed him.

Mike gave as good as he got, to begin with, and then just melted, mouth softening deliciously, allowing Harvey to take what he wanted.  Harvey spent long, enjoyable minutes plundering his smart, sarcastic mouth, reducing Mike to soft, needy, hungry noises in the back of his throat.  Mike's hands moved to his shoulders, clutching handfuls of fabric.

Harvey's stomach growled, and Mike's gave an answering rumble.  With great reluctance, he lifted his head.  "We should eat."

One of Mike's eyebrows arched suggestively.  "Go on," he drawled.

Harvey chuckled.  "Dinner first.  If you intend to let me have my way with you, we're both going to need the fuel."

 

******

 

Sitting across a table from Mike, watching him surgically demolish a meal, was quickly becoming one of Harvey's favorite pastimes.  It didn't hurt that this table overlooked the twinkling, multi-colored lights of Atlantic City.  Mike had ordered steak and lobster, while Harvey had opted for chicken Oscar, with shrimp and baby asparagus.  They'd nearly polished off one bottle of expensive Cabernet, and had a second on standby. 

"What would you be doing tonight," asked Mike, "if you hadn't met me?"

"I'd probably be downstairs, losing more money."  Harvey shrugged.  "Or maybe I would have met someone else."

Mike hummed, and drained his glass, suddenly unable to meet Harvey's eyes.

"What about you?" asked Harvey.  "Last night you sounded awfully worried about your grandmother, and yet you haven't tried to wriggle out of my grasp once today to go hustle up that twenty-five thousand."

Mike snorted.  "Ha.  Wriggle."

Harvey poured the last of the bottle, dividing it evenly between his glass, and Mike's.  "You don't have to give me an answer.  I'm curious, that's all."

"I called a buddy of mine while you were still asleep, to take him up on an alternative he offered me a few days ago."

Harvey's chest tightened with unease at this news, and he had to remind himself that Mike was not his responsibility.  He kept his tone light as he replied, "An alternative to card counting in Atlantic City?  Which bank are you knocking over?"

"Ha ha.  Nothing like that."  He pursed his lips and wrinkled his brow.  "Not exactly."

"Mike … "

Pushing away from the table, Mike carried his glass to the window.  "I owe her too much."  He turned around.  "My grandmother."

Harvey did his best to ignore his thoroughly tugged upon heartstrings. "Did you owe her a black eye, bloody nose, and bruised ribs?"

"Maybe."

 "Jesus, what did she do?  Give you a kidney?"

"No, but she would have, if it had ever come to that.” 

He turned and stared down at the city, speaking in a low voice which had Harvey straining to hear.  “She took care of me when my folks died.  Worked long past retirement.  She should have been taking Caribbean cruises, and playing cribbage with her gal pals.  Or on-line dating and kicking up her heels every weekend.  Instead, she taught until the school board forced her to retire.  After that, she worked as a greeter at fucking Walmart until her first arrhythmia episode.  She'd still managed to put enough aside for my first year at Columbia, which turned out to be money down the drain.  At least there was enough left over to get her into a halfway decent nursing home." 

Mike tipped his glass up and downed his wine as if it was water, and then returned to the table and reached for the new bottle.  Harvey held it out of his reach.

Mike let out a pouty sounding whine which shouldn’t have sounded so sexy.  "Really?"

"You should slow down.  So should I."  Harvey considered what Mike had just told him, and what he'd learned about him so far.  "What's your play?  What does this buddy of yours have lined up for you?"

"Can we just … not?"  Mike dropped heavily into his chair and leaned his head on one hand.  "Let's talk about something else."  Tilting his head, he all but batted his eyelashes.  "Can't we come up with something more enjoyable to do?"

Harvey wasn't ready to give up on the topic, but he could see that he wouldn't get anything more out of Mike right now.  And yes, he could absolutely think of more enjoyable ways to pass the time. 

 

******

 

The suite’s whirlpool bathtub turned out to be large enough for both of them to sit in at opposite ends.  They’d carried their refilled wine glasses to the bathroom, along with a box of dark chocolates provided by the hotel.  After undressing, and frankly admiring one another’s bodies, they arranged themselves in the tub. 

As multiple jets frothed the water, Mike grinned at Harvey and popped another chocolate in his mouth, followed by a gulp of wine.  “Damn, you’re right,” he said.  “Red wine and dark chocolates.  Who knew?”

Harvey bent one leg at the knee, brushing his foot along Mike’s outer thigh.  “Anyone who doesn’t consider pizza a food group?” He took a small bite of chocolate, lifted his glass, and allowed wine to slide lazily over his taste buds.  Wanting to kiss Mike, to share the flavors back and forth between them, he pondered the logistics.  “Come this way,” he said finally, crooking a finger.

Mike giggled, more than a little drunk.  “There’s not enough room.”

“There is, if you sit between my legs.”  When Mike didn’t move, Harvey cocked an eyebrow at him.  “I dare you.”

“Challenge totally accepted.”  Mike set his glass on the floor, shifted awkwardly to his hands and knees, and crawled up Harvey’s body, splashing water over the sides as he moved.  Harvey spread his legs wider to make room, and Mike turned and dropped between them, displacing even more water, and leaning his back against Harvey’s chest.  “Ouch,” he said, holding one hand to his side.

“Ribs still pretty sore, huh?”

Mike bit his lip, grimacing.  “I’ll be fine.  Just give me a minute.”

Harvey was happy enough to do that, enjoying the weight of Mike against him, and the wet slide of his skin.  He rearranged his own cock so that it rested in Mike’s crack, and imagined how fantastic it would feel to be inside Mike.  He took another bite of chocolate, another sip of wine, and held Mike’s chin to turn his head around far enough to reach his lips.  Mike quickly got with the program, and pressed his mouth to Harvey’s. 

Harvey opened his mouth, and enveloped Mike’s in a long, slow, dirty kiss, dragging his tongue across Mike’s, and transferring the flavors in his mouth to Mike’s.  Mike groaned deep in his throat, one hand on Harvey’s face, and the other on his thigh, fingers tightening as the kiss grew more heated.  Harvey located Mike’s cock under water, and palmed it gently, wringing another, even more heartfelt groan from him.

“God,” Mike muttered against his lips, his own curving into a smile, “do you always taste this good?”

“Absolutely.”  Harvey went back in for another taste, running his fingertips up and down Mike’s cock until his back arched and he broke the kiss, leaning his head into Harvey’s shoulder.

“Maybe we should …” panted Mike.

“Should what?”

“Bed.”

“Later.  For now, just relax and let me take care of you.”

Mike had nothing else to say – nothing coherent – and Harvey made good on his offer, stroking him expertly while nibbling his earlobe and thrusting two fingers between his legs and into him, fucking him to the knuckles, just this side of rough.  Mike responded with a wordless yell, thrashing in the water, and bracing one foot on the far end of the tub. 

“Mmm, you look good like this,” Harvey murmured in his ear.  “So hot and needy.”

Mike turned his head and slammed his mouth against Harvey’s, tasting like chocolate, and wine, and desperation.  Harvey kissed him slowly, still working his cock and his hole.  He could tell from the way Mike tensed slightly, that he was close, so he jammed three fingers into him and held, while his other hand sped up, kicking up whitecaps. 

Mike broke the kiss and gave another shout, arching up out of the water, and shuddering as he came.  Harvey stroked him through his orgasm, and kept stroking until he whimpered.  As Mike began to calm, eyes fluttering shut, Harvey held him in his arms, and kissed him tenderly.  After a time, Mike turned in Harvey’s arms and threw his arms around his neck.  He kissed Harvey’s neck and shoulder, seeming on the verge of falling asleep.

Harvey wasn’t ready to move yet, but he turned off the jets, and they lay together in silence, while Harvey played with Mike's hair, combing through it with his fingers, and rearranging it across his forehead.

Finally, the water became uncomfortably cool. 

“Bed now,” Harvey whispered.

Mike cracked one eye open and mumbled, “You didn’t come.”

Harvey kissed the top of his head, smiling.  “We’re not done yet.  Not even close.”

 

******

 

Mike lifted an eyebrow, staring at the box of condoms on the nightstand.  “How long were you planning to be here?”

“Just the weekend.”

A cheeky grin from Mike.  “Ambitious.”

“Optimistic,” countered Harvey.  He eyed Mike, where he lay next to him on Harvey’s bed.  “How are those ribs?  Any better?”

“I’m fine, old man.  Worry about yourself.”

“Old?  Is that any way to speak to the nice man who just had his fingers up your ass?”

Mike apparently didn’t have an answer for that.  He rolled onto his side, leaning his head on his hand, and watched as Harvey tore open a packet and rolled a condom onto his erect cock, struggling not to betray the shaking of his hand brought on by burgeoning excitement.  He lubed up, and ordered Mike onto his back.

“Bend your knees,” he instructed.  “How much stretching to you need?” 

“Not much.”

“Ooh, slutty.  I like it.”

“Just shut up and go for it.”

Despite Mike’s assurances, Harvey spared a few minutes to open him up, employing a generous amount of lube.  He continued manipulating him until Mike was squirming and moaning, and was, Harvey smugly noted, hard again. 

Harvey reached underneath him to cup his butt cheeks, and dropped kisses along his collarbone while his own heavy, condom-sheathed cock rested on Mike’s lower belly.  He licked down to Mike’s nipple, and grazed it with his teeth and tongue, worrying the hard nub until Mike expelled a harsh breath.

“I never,” said Mike weakly, “would have guessed you were such a tease.”

“Tell me what you want.”  Harvey went to work on Mike’s other nipple.

Mike wrapped a leg around Harvey’s back, and ran his heel up and down.  “You could do that for another hour or two, or you could get your cock inside me and fuck me like I know you want to.”

Harvey bit down harder, making Mike squeal.

“Or,” said Mike, voice unsteady, “both.  Both is good.”

Harvey could have spent hours, as Mike suggested, teasing and tasting every inch of him, but his cock actually hurt with the need to be inside him.  He lifted his head, moved Mike’s other leg over his hip, lined himself up, and began a slow, tortuously blissful push inside of Mike’s tight, waiting heat.  “Fuck,” he breathed, breaking out in a sweat at the way Mike’s channel gripped him. 

Halfway in, he paused to kiss Mike.  While his tongue targeted Mike’s tonsils, he pushed his cock all the way home, not stopping until his groin was snugged up next to Mike’s.  He stopped again, arms encircling Mike, holding him tight, kissing his face, and neck, gnawing his shoulder and growling.

When Mike’s ankles crossed around Harvey’s lower back, and his arms wrapped around Harvey’s middle, some weird, inexplicable shift took place in the universe. 

Harvey had never bought into that whole, “two become one” schtick – not until that moment.  Where were the boundaries between the two of them?  Did they even exist?  He didn’t know, and he didn’t care.  The usual goal – fucking the other body until he came – seemed meaningless and nonsensical.  He didn’t need that completion.  He was already complete, just like this, joined like the other puzzle piece to a man he’d known for less than a day. 

Dizzied and disoriented by the bewildering flood of emotion, unmoored, he moaned against Mike’s ear, sounding, even to himself, as if he was in pain.

“Ssh,” whispered Mike, cradling Harvey’s head, and kissing his forehead.  “You feel so fucking good inside me.”  He rocked his hips back and forth, one time.  “Move.  Now.  _Please._ ”

Not wishing to deny him anything, Harvey obliged.  At first, his movements were small, just a subtle rocking as he remained buried inside Mike.  Gradually, his hips pulled back further, snapped back harder and faster, until the familiar fog of lust overtook him, and he was slamming into Mike, setting the mattress creaking and the headboard thumping against the wall in rhythmic counterpoint. 

Harvey had Mike bent nearly in half, his knees at his ears, legs flopping in the air like a pornographic rag doll, while he pounded into him, fingers digging into his ass hard enough to leave bruises.

Mike shouted his name, and his ass clenched around Harvey’s cock as he came again. 

“Fuck,” gasped Harvey.  “My God, you’re beautiful.”  He jack-hammered into Mike, sweat sliding down his temples and chest.  As he started to come, he smashed his mouth against Mike’s, kissing and shaking, teeth clicking against Mike’s, and tongues locked together in the sweetest of battles.

He grew still, joined to Mike, reluctant to separate.  Eventually, though, Mike moved restlessly beneath him, signaling his growing discomfort.  Harvey raised up on his elbows and gazed down at Mike’s face. 

The urge to blurt out something romantic, to tell Mike what a goddamn, fucking miracle he was, surged up within him, causing his heart to beat too fast.  It was too soon, though, and too out of character.  For all he knew, Mike looked on this joining as merely another in a long line of one-time hookups.  The thought of that made Harvey sad.  Mike deserved better than that.  He deserved … well … he deserved _Harvey_.

Pressing a tender kiss to Mike’s mouth, Harvey pulled out, trying his best not to hurt him, and got rid of the condom.  He did a quick cleanup of both of them, and they crawled underneath the covers together, facing one another.  Mike’s eyelids drooped, and he looked on the verge of falling asleep.

Working a leg between Mike’s, Harvey drew him closer, and fluffed his pillow for him.  Sleeping sounded like a fine idea to him.  First, he needed to satisfy one bit of concern he couldn’t shake.

He caressed the side of Mike’s face.  “I want you to tell me how you’re planning to get that money.”

Mike blinked at him, frowning.  “That’s not what I thought you were going to say.”

Gently, Harvey said, “Answer the question, sweetheart.”

More blinking from Mike.  He tried to roll away, but they were too tangled up together.  He sighed.  “It’s supposed to be quick and easy.  An hour of my time, tops.  There is this briefcase full of pot.  I take it to the hotel, hand it over, get a briefcase full of cash in return, and I’m done.”

Harvey let that sink in, trying to hide his shock and dismay.  When he trusted himself to speak, he kept his voice mild.  “What you need to realize, is that there is no way in hell I’m letting you go through with such an idiotic plan.”

Mike put up a concerted struggle now, to free himself from Harvey’s grasp.  He managed to roll away, but Harvey scooted after him, dropped an arm across his middle, and trapped both of his legs with one of his own. 

“Goddamn it, Harvey …”

“No.  This is not a discussion.  It’s not even an argument.  You’ll get the money another way.”

The fight went out of Mike, and he sagged back against Harvey.  “How?”

He hadn’t thought that far ahead, but the words spilled out of Harvey as if he’d been planning this from the moment he'd met Mike.  “From me.”

“You have got to be –”

“We’ll call it a loan.  Interest free.”

“Get real.  Do you know how I make my living?  I’m a bike messenger.  It will take me forever to pay you back.”

“We’ll think of something.”  Mike opened his mouth, and guessing what his next objection would be, Harvey said, “Not sex.”

Mike pouted prettily.  “But it was such good sex.”

Harvey permitted himself a tiny smile.  “It certainly was.  I hope we’ll repeat it, soon, and often.  I’m only saying your repayment will not be in the form of sex.  You seem like a reasonably intelligent young man.  You’re even partially college educated.  I’m certain you’ll be of use to somebody.”  He narrowed his eyes as an idea began to form.  He remembered what Jessica had done for him.  “I don’t suppose you have any interest in practicing law?”

“None whatsoever.”

Mike’s expression was too serious, making Harvey suspicious.  “Is that so?”

“None.  Only ….”

“Only what?”

“Only just my whole fucking life.”  Mike turned around in Harvey’s embrace, expression doubtful, but a faint spark of hope in his eyes.  “It can never happen, though.”

“What if I said I could make it happen?”

“I’d say, prove it, big guy.”

“Would you care to make a friendly wager?”

“I don’t know.  What would we bet?”

“If I win, and you become a member of the bar, you come work for me.”

“And to be clear, you’d be paying me?”

Harvey huffed, and rolled his eyes.  “Obviously, idiot.  How would you pay me back if you aren’t earning a salary?”

Mike made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat.  “Well, what if I don’t become a lawyer?”

“If I lose, you _don’t_ come and work for me and the debt is discharged.”

“That has got to be the most asinine bet I’ve ever heard of.  Either way, I can’t lose.”

Harvey held Mike’s chin, running his thumb across his lower lip.  “I feel precisely the same way.”

Mike’s brows wrinkled.  He looked utterly lost.  “But, why?”

“You asked me that before.  Since then, my answer has changed.”

Mike stared at him expectantly.  “So, you’re not really a righter of wrongs?  You no longer find me cute, or want to get in my pants?  Oh, wait …”

Had Harvey actually said all that?  He had, but found it disconcerting to have his words thrown back at him like that.  “That’s one hell of a memory you’ve got.”

Mike dropped his gaze.  “You don’t know the half of it.”

Whatever the hell that meant.  “Look, Mike, I like you.  I enjoy your company.  I think you’re an interesting person.  And the chemistry … maybe you’re too inexperienced to realize it, but that was beyond extraordinary.”

Mike blushed, and kept his gaze glued to Harvey’s chest.  “I’m not inexperienced.  Like, at all.  I thought we’d already established that.”

“Okay. And …?”

An irritated huff.  “And, yes.  It was mind-blowing, knock-your-socks-off and stare-at-the-face-of-God kind of stuff.”

“And?”

Another expulsion of air from Mike.  “And … I don’t know.  What do we have in common besides that?”

“We’ll find that out as we go.  Or not.  Maybe that's all there is -- which doesn’t mean you won’t be a good attorney.”

“I would.  Still, I don’t know.”

“Just take the bet.  I mean, shit, Mike, what do you have to lose?”

Harvey waited for Mike to come to a decision, striving not to appear too anxious, when he wanted to reach over and shake him until he saw reason.

Mike flopped onto his back, staring at the ceiling.  “Ah, hell.  I’m too tired to think about this.  Can I give you my answer tomorrow?”

“Of course.  I’ll give you a ride back to the city in the morning.  We can talk in the car.”

Mike yawned.  “Sounds good.”  He bit his lip, uncertainty making him impossibly cute.  “Do you think you could kiss –”

Before Mike could finish, Harvey had his marauding mouth on him.  His tongue muscled into Mike’s mouth, filling him up, and devouring him.  Mike melted against him, making those needy sounds Harvey was already beginning to crave.  When he’d taken what he wanted, he pulled away and stared down at Mike.

“Wow,” Mike mouthed, and licked his lips.  He took a few moments, appearing to collect his wits, and moved away from Harvey.  “Goodnight.”

“What are you doing way over there?”

“Um.  Sleeping?”

Harvey laid one arm out straight on the bed.  “Wouldn’t you rather do it over here?”

“Oh.  Okay.  Sure.”  Mike scooted back over, and fit himself to Harvey’s side as if they had been sleeping this way forever.  He burrowed into Harvey’s shoulder and snuffled once.  “G’night, Harvey.”

Harvey held onto him as if he was the most precious thing he’d ever found, or would ever find, in this life, which he was beginning to believe he was.  “Good night, baby,” he whispered.

 

******

 

Mike was not in the bed when Harvey woke up the next morning. Cursing, he climbed out of bed and did a quick search of the suite. Mike's clothes were gone.  He'd scrawled a note on a piece of hotel stationary and left it on the kitchen counter:

_"Harvey, what you're suggesting is too much, too fast. When you get home, I'm sure you'll realize you just got caught up in the moment. Thanks for rescuing me, for trusting me, and for a great weekend.  P.S. I sort of took a twenty from your wallet to get me home. I also grabbed one of your business cards, so I can return the money. For future reference, that's the kind of loan one-night stand's rate, not 25K.  -M."_

Harvey scowled down at the piece of paper, berating himself for not anticipating this, and for sleeping through Mike’s stealthy departure.

Had Mike gone to gamble some more? Or was he idiot enough to go through with the drug buy? Whatever he'd planned, Harvey was powerless to stop him. He’d never gotten around to asking Mike his last name.  Still, if he wanted to track him down, he had a few clues to go on. How many bike messenger companies could there be in Manhattan, or Brooklyn?

The more important consideration was whether he wanted to find him.

Last night, Harvey been so certain what he wanted. Now … Maybe it had been the alcohol, and the unprecedented level of attraction. Nothing else explained his rash behavior. _You dodged a bullet_ , he thought, trying to convince himself that he was relieved.

As he mulled over this development, he ordered breakfast to be delivered to his suite. While he waited for it to arrive, he considered the enormity of what he’d almost done. Twenty-four hours after he’d met Mike, he’d offered him the world. What was he thinking? In the light of day, it seemed like the worst sort of insanity. Luckily, it had only been temporary.

What if Mike had stayed? What if he’d accepted money from Harvey, and enrolled in Harvard under his sponsorship? He’d be stuck with him for years to come. It would have been worse than a hasty Vegas wedding, which could have been annulled and dismissed as a stupid, drunken lark.

Once he’d admitted his foolishness (the first step was admitting it), he decided he couldn’t get out of Atlantic City fast enough.  Throwing on some clothes, he speed-packed. His breakfast arrived. He ignored the food, and gulped down coffee while he completed the in-room checkout process.

A few minutes later, as he waited downstairs for the valet to bring his car around, he replayed in his mind the scene from … was it only twenty-four hours ago? He’d watched Mike get thrown out of the casino for card counting, watched him get thrown in front of a car, and he’d still thought it would be a good idea to befriend him.

Maybe what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, but Atlantic City? Not so much. Memories of Mike plagued him all the way home, and continued to haunt him as the new week began.

 

******

 

Harvey felt less than thrilled about the associate interviews Jessica and Donna had set up for him at the Chilton Hotel. What Jessica insisted was one of the privileges stemming from his new status of senior partner, felt more like a punishment. He didn’t want some green first year cramping his style. Plus, he knew what these Harvard kids were like: arrogant, privileged, full of themselves, convinced they had nothing left to learn. He knew, because he’d been that guy himself once.

He stood at the door to the interview room, eying the crop of eager first years, without an ounce of enthusiasm. He sighed. “Okay, Donna. Let’s do this. Send in the clones.”

As the surreal parade of douchiness got into full swing, he became increasingly convinced that he was interviewing the same person, over and over again. Two hours in, just as he began to check out mentally, prepared to just give up and choose the next clone in a bad suit that walked through the door, Donna gave him her pre-arranged wink of approval. He looked past her, and froze.

Surreal did not begin to describe his feelings as Mike No-Last-Name — or was it Rick Sorkin? — walked into the interview room. Harvey waited, speechless, for Mike to recognize him. When he did, Mike’s mouth fell open — and then his briefcase fell open, and suddenly it was clear exactly what he was doing at the Chilton Hotel.

“Shit,” said Mike.

He knelt to scoop the pot back into his briefcase. In the other room, Harvey saw what he assumed were police detectives frantically questioning an unruffled Donna. He eased the door shut, and waited for Mike to stand up. He had so many questions.

“So, you lied about your name? What else were you lying about last weekend?”

“What? No. Mike is my real name. I was just … the cops were right behind me. What else was I supposed to do?”

“Not sell drugs?” Harvey didn’t bother to disguise his rising anger. “Did I not warn you what might happen?”

“It wasn’t so much a warning as a —”

“And yet, here you are.” Overwhelmed by twin irrational urges to either kiss Mike, or throw him over his knee, Harvey turned away and stalked to the desk, sitting carefully, and folding his hands together. “Why did you run out on me?”

“Oh. We’re doing this now. Okay. I left you a note. I thought it explained everything fairly well.”

“It didn’t explain shit.”

Mike sat in the chair on the other side of the desk. “You don’t do casual sex very often, do you?”

“What? Of course I do.” He almost pointed out that he hadn’t viewed what they’d had as casual, but figured he’d already humiliated himself enough where this kid was concerned.

“So, what’s this interview supposed to be for?” asked Mike, obviously eager to change the subject.

Harvey was just as glad to have it changed. “I was recently made senior partner, and I’m supposed to be hiring an associate.”

“Oh yeah? How much does that pay?”

“Ha ha. The position requires a law degree, which we both know you don’t have.” Just for the satisfaction of watching Mike’s eyes widen with shock, he named the starting salary and added, “plus a $25,000 signing bonus. Too bad you never bothered to pass the bar.”

“Who says I didn’t?” At Harvey’s skeptical look, Mike shrugged. “Not under my own name. Someone dared me.”

Harvey hesitated, pretending to check his phone to buy a little time. He wanted to keep Mike here, to keep him talking until he figured out some way to see him again, but there didn’t seem to be anything more to say, and he still had an associate to hire. “Well, I’d like to say this has been fun, but I’d be lying.  I should get back to those interviews.”

“Hire me.”

“Excuse me?”

“I can run rings around every single one of the Harvard educated jerks waiting out there.”

Harvey sighed. “It’s not so much that I don’t believe you. It’s just that I don’t care.”

“Last weekend, you were begging me to let you give me a loan, and send me to law school.”

“Let’s put that down to post-orgasmic fog.”

“Wow. You’re as big a disappointment as every other person in my life.”

“Even your dear, sainted grandmother? If she even exists.”

“She exists, you shit head.”

Hearing the sharp anger in Mike’s voice, Harvey immediately regretted the jab at his grandmother. Nothing about this encounter was going the way he would have liked, but he wasn’t ready to forgive Mike yet. Giving him a weary look, Harvey drawled, “Why are you still here?”

What he wanted to ask was, _why weren’t you still in my bed when I woke up Sunday morning?_

“Because I’m desperate,” Mike grated. “Obviously. And the cops might still be looking for me. And … and … look, be honest. If I did have a degree from Harvard, would you hire me?”

“A pointless, hypothetical question, the answer to which is no.”

“What if I could prove to you how useful I could be to you?”

“Unlikely.” Harvey stared pointedly at the door. “Am I going to have to get Security involved?” It was an empty threat, but Mike didn’t need to know that.

“No, wait. Just wait.” Mike bit his lip, and appeared to think rapidly. “Remember why I was kicked out of the casino?”

“For counting cards. Which should have been my first clue as to your questionable character.”

“The reason I’m so good at it, is because I have an eidetic memory. I consume knowledge like a fucking beast. I read something, I understand it, and I never forget.” He pointed at his head. “I’ve got the entire BARBRI manual, all of the laws and statutes of the city and state of New York, case law and precedent dating back to the Middle Ages, all stored up here, filed away, and ready to be accessed when the need arises.”

As much as he would have liked to believe him, Mike’s claims sounded impossible to Harvey.

“You look skeptical. I don’t blame you. Prove me wrong. Ask me anything.”

When Harvey didn’t respond right away, Mike added, “I dare you. In fact, let’s turn this into a wager, since you seem so fond of those. If I can successfully answer all your questions, you hire me. If not, I’ll go away and leave you alone.”

“That’s not much of a bet, since you’d have to leave eventually.”

“Let’s sweeten the pot, then, pun intended. If I lose, you get one bag of the pot in this briefcase. Deal?”

Making Harvey complicit in his crime. He could have pointed that out, but the truth was, he was curious. And what did he have to lose? It was either indulge the kid, or have Donna resume the clone parade. He fired up the laptop in front of him, which until then he’d been using as nothing more than a prop, and navigated to the on-line version of BARBRI.

“You can keep the pot,” he said, “but hold onto your seat, because you’re about to see what a Harvard educated attorney can do.

What followed were a series of questions, and answers, and challenges, all of which Mike handled so flawlessly that within minutes, Harvey was no longer in doubt about his claims of an eidetic memory. Next, Harvey posited some real-world examples, and queried Mike as to how he would handle them. His answers were inventive, and completely on point. Finally, Harvey had to concede. Unlike any other kind of loss, Harvey didn’t mind this one.

“You win, kid.”

Mike pumped a fist in the air. “ _Yes_. Can I start tomorrow?”

Harvey hesitated over his reply. It was tempting. Having a brain like Mike’s at his disposal would make his life easier. It would absolutely make his life more interesting. If he’d had no previous emotional investment in Mike, he might have agreed. He knew too well, though, the trouble Mike would be in if he was caught impersonating a lawyer. Harvey would be in trouble as well, but it would be Mike going to jail, if it ever came to that.

Perhaps he might have carelessly placed that burden on a total stranger, but Mike was not a stranger. He was warm, and funny, and a little bit tragic and mixed up, and Harvey had kissed him, and caressed him, and been inside him so deep he could feel Mike’s pulse bleeding into his own.

Whether Mike was ready to admit it or not, they’d shared something extraordinary in that hotel room in Atlantic City.  When Mike ran out on him, Harvey had been forced to question his own instincts. Now, he concluded that even completely sober, and back in familiar surroundings, the attraction remained, as strong as ever.

Mike was waiting for an answer.

Harvey shut the lid of his laptop. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’ve witnessed the reckless behavior of which you’re capable, with no one to tell you no. You don’t need another enabler. You need someone to rein you in.”

“We had a bet!”

“So, call a cop. Oh, wait.” He let Mike fume for a couple of seconds. “I’m not going to hire you as my associate — yet.”

“I’m kind of on the clock here, with my grandmother.”

“Don’t worry about your grandmother. I’ll take care of her bills myself. I’ll also look in on her from time to time, because you’re not going to be around much for the next few years.”

Mike gaped at him. “You’re turning me in?”

“No, idiot.” Harvey smiled, showing all his teeth. “I’m sending you to Harvard.”

“You’re — But — I can’t — I mean — _What?_ ”

“Oh, god, I hope they can train that stutter out of you.”

“I don’t — _Dude. What the hell_?”

“I’ve offered twice now. Do not turn me down this time. And before you say anything else, consider this: you were stupid enough to risk your future with that drug dealing nonsense. You claim you’re such a smart guy. Prove it. Take a chance on your future.”

Having evidently managed to finally wrap his brain around Harvey’s offer, Mike shut up for a minute and stared across the desk at him. “I’m—” he began in a small voice, and paused to clear his throat. “I’m sort of, technically, black-balled from Harvard. For life.”

A short, thick silence.

“Of course you are.” Harvey let out a rumbling sigh. “Columbia Law, then. I’ll work it out with Jessica somehow.”

“I, er, was expelled from Columbia.”

“Seriously, what is wrong with you?”

“Maybe I could go to NYU, if you pull some strings?”

“Fine. We’ll hammer out the details later.” Harvey studied Mike’s face, which was half-hopeful, and half-irritated. “Do we have a deal? Are you smart enough, and brave enough to put your life on a different path?”

“All right. Yes. Fine. We have a deal.”

Harvey stood up and walked around the desk, touching one finger to the bottom of Mike’s chin, causing him to flinch. He held his ground, though, and stared defiantly up at Harvey.

“Maybe,” said Harvey, “try to act happy about it?”

Mike’s mouth pulled down. “I am happy,” he husked.

It occurred to Harvey that all Mike’s apparent bluster was meant to cover the depths of his relief. “I expect you to work your ass off.”

“I know. I will.” Sniffing, Mike lurched to his feet and turned away, trying to surreptitiously wipe at his eyes with his sleeve. “I should get out of here and let you finish your interviews.”

Harvey wanted to groan in frustration. He’d almost forgotten that he still needed to choose an associate. “The police might still be looking for you. Why don’t you wait out there with the candidates? Blend in. I’ll wrap things up as quickly as I can, then I’ll take you to dinner, so we can make plans.” And see where the night led.

With a hand on Mike’s back, he walked him to the door. Before he could open it, Harvey gently turned him around and kissed him, pressing him against the door. Mike kissed him back with a sweet sort of desperation.

Minutes later, they broke apart, breathing hard.

“Christ,” whispered Harvey, “I want to drape you over that desk right now.”

The look in Mike’s eyes indicated that he was giving it serious thought, but just then they heard loud, excited voices on the other side of the door. Harvey frowned, held a finger to his lips, and opened the door so that Mike was hidden behind it. In the outer room, he found Donna with her palm on the chest of an irate looking young man, physically restraining him from advancing.

“Donna? What’s the problem?”

“This young man seems to think he is owed an interview.”

“What’s your name?” Harvey asked him.

“Rick Sorkin. I would have been on time, but—”

“I don’t care. You’re hired. Show up Monday morning. Donna, send everyone else home.”

Some of the other candidates muttered darkly, and a few outraged glares were sent in Harvey’s direction, but none of it had any effect on him.

“Harvey,” hissed Donna, with a tight smile on her face, “are you sure about this?” He could clearly hear the subtext: _are you out of your goddamned mind?_

“I’m positive.”

“Well, what about the first Rick Sorkin? He’s still in there with you, isn’t he?”

“As soon as you take care of that rabble, you can take off for the night. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Harvey—”

He closed the door in her face. As an afterthought, he locked it. He and Mike stared at one another.

Mike smiled. “Is this the part where we sweep everything on the desk onto the ground?”

They both turned and eyed the desk, which held only Harvey’s laptop, and one file folder filled with resumes.

Harvey pretended to think about it. “Maybe.”

“Is that such a smart idea. In light of our future working relationship?”

“Smart would have been leaving you sprawled in the driveway in front of that casino.”

“Still, if you’re really paying for my school, and, I’m assuming, my room and board, we’re entering a sticky area, morality-wise.”

Which was funny, considering the source. Mike was right, though. Absolutely on point.

Ignoring common sense, Harvey doubled down. He patted the desk. “Do you think this can hold both our weight?”

Mike frowned, sizing it up. “I’m willing to bet it would.”

“I’ll take that bet.”

Harvey moved the laptop to one of the chairs, and sailed the folder full of resumes across the room.

He pushed Mike down onto the desk to seal the deal.

 

 

The End.


End file.
